When you believe in magic
by TwilightPony21
Summary: After Harm leaves JAG to return to flying, Mac takes on a new case without him and discovers a little fairy tale magic. Harm/Mac.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi, everyone! I know I said I was taking a break from writing – and really, I am! This is actually a short story that I started a while ago, but the muse didn't want to finish it until now. If you're familiar with Catherine Bell's show** ** _The Good Witch_** **, you'll probably see some parallels here. I hope you like it and thanks for reading!**

* * *

 _"Happy Birthday!"_

 _Sarah MacKenzie hadn't even raised her hand to knock before her friend Cheryl flung open the front door to greet her._

 _"_ _Come in, come in!" Cheryl exclaimed. "We're all in the living room. We have tons of food, and we're just about to take a quiz on our perfect Prince Charming."_

 _Cheryl's enthusiasm was infectious. In honor of Sarah's fifteenth birthday, she had invited a group of girls for a sleepover complete with birthday cake, chocolate ice cream, and plenty of girl talk. As Sarah made her way into the living room, she found her friends already sprawled out on the floor, squealing over a magazine._

 _"Sarah!" one of the girls, a bubbly blond named Jamie, exclaimed excitedly. She flipped open one of the pages in the magazine. "Is your ideal Prince Charming: (a) blond, blue-eyed, and muscular; (b) short and geeky with glasses; or (c) tall, dark, and handsome?"_

 _Sarah couldn't stop the blush from creeping up her cheeks as she heard the final choice._

 _Jamie grinned and marked off the answer. "I'd say that's 'tall, dark, and handsome' for Sarah."_

 _"Jamie!" Sarah protested weakly._

 _"Oh, no," Jamie insisted. "The blush on your face doesn't lie. I'd say Sarah MacKenzie wants a tall, dark, and handsome Prince Charming to smother her with deep, passionate kisses—oomph!"_

 _Jamie's giggles were muffled by the pillow that Sarah flung directly at her face._

 _"I'll read the next question," Cheryl declared, snatching the magazine from where Jamie had dropped it on the floor. "What is your Prince Charming's preferred mode of transportation: (a) his magnificent white stallion; (b) any form of public transportation; or (c) a sleek red convertible?"_

 _Sarah laughed. "I'll go with the convertible."_

 _The girls erupted into giggles again._

 _"Oh, my gosh, Sarah, I know the perfect guy for you," Cheryl said._

 _"Yeah?"_

 _"He just turned sixteen, he drives a bright red convertible, and he definitely has the tall, dark, and handsome thing going for him."_

 _Sarah's eyes lit up with interest. "What's his name?"_

 _"Eddie."_

 _The mention of Eddie's name set off a fresh round of laughter. The girls stayed up late that night, far into the wee hours of the morning, munching on birthday cake and chattering excitedly about the boys at school and how they could set Sarah and Eddie up on a real date._

 _When Sarah returned home the next day, she hadn't gotten much sleep, but she was running high on happiness and adrenaline. She hurried up the front steps of her house, feeling as if she were practically floating on air, until the heavy, stony silence inside brought the euphoria crashing down._

 _"Mom?"_

 _There was no answer, and Sarah wandered into the living room, searching for her mother._

 _Instead, she found her father, sprawled out on the couch with an obvious hangover._

 _"_ _Where's Mom?" Sarah asked._

 _"_ _Don't know," came the gruff reply._

 _"Did she go out?"_

 _"No."_

 _The sheer bitterness that dripped from that one word sent a cold chill down Sarah's spine._

 _"Then where is she?" she demanded._

 _"_ _I don't know," her father repeated harshly. "Your mama walked out that door last night, and as far as I know, she ain't coming back."_

* * *

Major Sarah MacKenzie rubbed a tired hand over her face and rolled her head in a slow circle, trying to ease some of the stiffness in her neck. It was barely 0900 in the morning, and she had been hunched over her desk since her early arrival at the office, buried under a bottomless pile of paperwork.

 _Damn it, Harm_.

She completely blamed her former partner for this mess. When he had left JAG a few weeks ago to return to a fighter squadron, he had left behind a stack of open cases that somehow ended up on her desk. Since then, she had been putting in extra hours at work, starting early and staying late, dividing her time between the courtroom and the confines of her office, and she had still barely managed to make a dent in the paperwork.

Mac wasn't even sure she remembered what the surface of her desk looked like anymore.

 _But that's not really why you're angry with him,_ the little voice inside her head scolded harshly.

 _I'm not angry._

"Well, I'm sure you're beautiful even when you're angry."

The bold flirtation laced with a strong Australian accent broke into her thoughts, and Mac looked up, embarrassed.

"Did I say that out loud?"

Lieutenant Commander Mic Brumby winked at her. "Don't worry, Major, I have no intention of making you angry." He held up a bright red file folder. "Where do you want this?"

"Another file?" Mac asked in exasperation. "I thought you weren't going to make me angry?"

"Easy, Major." Mic held up his hands in surrender. "I'm just the bloke who inherited the office."

 _His office. Harm's old office._

Mac frowned. "Just put it..." She sighed and waved her hand absently at her desk. "...anywhere."

"It's for the Banks hearing," Mic said, setting the folder on top of a tall stack of papers balancing precariously on the edge of the desk. "It's on the docket for tomorrow."

"Banks?"

"Yeah, I just found it buried under some other files on Harm's desk."

Mac's brow furrowed. She couldn't remember ever seeing such a bright red file before, nor could she remember her partner – _former_ partner – ever mentioning a case with that name. However, he had been so preoccupied with his return to flying that she wasn't surprised it had slipped his mind.

"Thanks," she said sarcastically, reaching for the file. With a heavy sigh, she opened to the first page and skimmed through it quickly. "Dereliction of duty?"

Mic shrugged. "More like dereliction of reality. The petty officer tried to cure a fellow shipmate's illness with a magic potion." He grinned. "I wasn't aware that the United States Navy used magic potions to cure its sailors."

"They don't."

"They do according to Petty Officer Banks." Mic winked at her. "Do you believe in magic, Major?"

Mac felt her stomach turn upside down. She knew he meant it as a good-natured joke, but instead she was filled with an odd sense of sadness that seemed to make her slightly queasy.

"No, Commander, I don't," she replied, perhaps with more force than she had intended.

"Well, you might not want to tell your client that," Mic advised, motioning towards the door.

"Good morning, ma'am, sir."

Mic nodded a greeting and then hastily made an exit as Lieutenant Bud Roberts approached Mac's office with a cheerful smile.

Mac rubbed her temples and turned to her new guest with tired eyes. "Morning, Bud. Come on in."

"Thank you, ma'am."

Bud stepped into the office accompanied by a pretty blond Navy officer. "Major MacKenzie, this is Petty Officer Aurora Banks."

"Hello, ma'am," Aurora greeted politely.

She was a petite young woman, but she carried herself elegantly. Her silky blond hair was pulled back in a tight braid, and her uniform was immaculate. But there was something about her eyes that caught Mac's attention. They were bright and expressive, framed by long lashes, a shade of green that almost shimmered. And when those eyes looked at her, even the Marine major couldn't help but squirm under the petty officer's penetrating gaze.

"Petty Officer Banks," Mac said quickly, forcing down the uncomfortable feeling. She sank back into her chair and opened the file. "You're a corpsman on the _USS Cinderella_."

"Yes, ma'am," Aurora replied promptly.

"Charged with dereliction of duty."

"I did my job, ma'am," Aurora corrected firmly.

"You treated one of your fellow sailors"—Mac glanced down at the file—"Petty Officer Kathryn Sanderson. She spent three nights in sick bay with a high fever."

"She wasn't doing well, ma'am. I decided to try a mixture of anti-febrile herbs."

"The chief medical officer states that you treated the patient on your own and failed to follow proper protocol. Instead, you treated Petty Officer Sanderson with 'an unknown concoction of suspicious origin.'"

"Western medicine wasn't working, ma'am," Aurora argued. "Her fever wasn't coming down. I opted to try something else."

Mac laid the file down and crossed her arms over her chest. "Well, Petty Officer, the Navy does have certain medical protocols and its corpsmen are expected to follow those protocols—"

"Except when those protocols don't work, ma'am," Aurora interrupted, her green eyes lighting up with anger. "And in this case, they didn't. So I tried something different."

"Well, you're right about that," Mac agreed in a sarcastic, almost taunting tone. "Magic potions are definitely something different. It's not every day you see the United States Navy mixing up magic potions like something out of a fairy tale. Do you think this is a fairy tale, Petty Officer? Because it isn't."

Aurora's bright eyes narrowed, and she fixed Mac with a hard stare. "I never said it was, ma'am."

"Ma'am." Bud suddenly spoke up.

Mac glared at him and Bud shrank back slightly.

"Ma'am, with all due respect, we are the _defense_ counsel."

Mac bit her lower lip. For some reason, her emotions seemed to be spilling out of her mouth today, and part of her just wanted to scream in frustration, but the practical lawyer part of her clearly understood Bud's point.

She sighed and closed her eyes. "You're right, Bud. I—I'm sorry."

"Are you okay, ma'am?"

"Fine," Mac replied curtly.

"Ma'am, you're not angry at Lieutenant Roberts," Aurora said.

"Excuse me?"

"You're hurting," Aurora explained. "Your pain is extremely powerful. But it has nothing to do with the lieutenant."

Mac blinked in surprise. She shot a questioning look over at Bud, and he shrugged helplessly.

"You've lost something," Aurora continued. "Something very important to you."

"Petty Officer Banks, right now the most important thing to me is your defense, and you haven't given me anything that we can use as one. So before I realize just how out of line you are, I suggest that you walk out that door and come back with something that's going to help your case." Suddenly feeling flustered, Mac stood up from her chair and motioned to the door. "We start tomorrow at 0900 sharp," she instructed. "Lieutenant Roberts will show you out."

Quickly, Bud rose from his seat to do as the Marine major asked. "Right this way," he said politely.

It was only after Aurora left her office that Mac let out an angry breath in a huff. She watched the young woman leave, leaning tiredly against the frame of her office door and suddenly feeling a heavy weight upon her shoulders.

"Problem with your new client, Major?"

Mac turned to see Admiral Chegwidden's steely eyes watching Aurora exit through the double doors of JAG.

"No, sir."

"She specifically requested you as her defense counsel."

"Me? Why me, sir?"

"Well, it certainly wasn't because you gave her the warm fuzzies."

Mac's gaze dropped apologetically. "I'm sorry, sir."

The admiral looked thoughtful. "Her exact words were 'I respectfully request the Marine major with the hole in her heart as my defense counsel.'"

Mac shot a look of disbelief at her commanding officer. "She said that, sir?"

"She did," the admiral confirmed. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Tell me, Major, is there a 'hole in your heart' that I should know about?"

"No, sir."

It was the truth. Mac actually felt like her heart was being squeezed in an unforgiving vice. She had no other explanation for the sharp pangs that struck inside her chest. They had become more frequent lately – these acute, nagging feelings that wouldn't go away no matter how hard she tried to ignore them. And if she were honest with herself, she knew exactly when they had started...a few weeks ago when her partner and best friend had brushed away her tears and held her in his arms – and then walked out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi, everyone, thanks for reading! This story will have three chapters plus a short epilogue. Hope you like chapter 2!**

* * *

"Harriet!" Mac exclaimed the next morning, stepping out of the break room and stirring what was already her second cup of coffee for the day. "What are you doing here?"

"Good morning, ma'am," Harriet greeted, a cheery smile on her face.

The blond Navy lieutenant shifted the bundle of blankets in her arms, swaying on her feet as she gently rocked back and forth. And when she turned just slightly, Mac could see the bundle wiggle in his mother's arms.

"A.J.!"

"Would you like to hold him, ma'am?" Harriet asked.

Mac's face broke out in a smile. "Oh, could I?"

"Of course, ma'am."

A sleepy baby A.J. reached out to his godmother with tiny fingers. Quickly, Mac set her cup of coffee down on a nearby desk and let Harriet slide him into her waiting arms.

"Hey, little guy," Mac cooed softly, letting A.J. grasp onto her hand.

Her godson stared back at her with wide, innocent eyes, and Mac suddenly felt the iron grip on her heart tighten.

 _My biological clock is going off, and I keep hitting the snooze button._

"You're a natural, ma'am." Harriet grinned.

"Oh, Harriet, he's such a handsome little guy. If I ever had a baby, I think I would want a son—" Mac stopped abruptly as she realized what she was saying.

Harriet's eyes widened with a knowing twinkle.

Mac blushed and looked away. "Well, first I might need to find someone qualified to be the, um...father."

Harriet laughed. "Well, this little guy kept his father up most of the night, didn't you, A.J.?" She tickled A.J.'s tummy, and the baby gurgled happily. "Bud ended up running late this morning, so I offered to drop him off at work. He says you're both due in court early this morning."

"We are," Mac confirmed. She looked down at A.J. with a mock stern expression. "So you need to let your daddy get a little bit of sleep at night, okay?"

Mac smiled as she handed him back to his mother. "Thanks, Harriet. We'll see you later, okay, little guy?"

As Mac took another sip of coffee and headed back to her office, she happened to catch a glimpse of the morning newscast on the television.

"In other world news today, U.S. forces continue to monitor the no-fly zone over Kosovo..."

Mac froze, her eyes drawn to the footage of an F-14 soaring through the sky.

"He's an aviator."

Mac blinked in surprise as Aurora suddenly appeared at her side. She glanced back at the double doors at the entrance to JAG. They were completely still, not swinging as if someone had just walked through them, and she could have sworn that she had never even seen Aurora enter the office.

"Excuse me?"

Aurora nodded towards the television. "The object of your heart's desire."

Mac laughed. "I was just watching the news."

"I know." Aurora's eyes were filled with concern. "But it causes you so much pain."

"The news?"

"The doubt that he desires you in return."

Mac's expression instantly turned cold. She tore her gaze from the television screen and squared her shoulders. "Petty Officer Banks, I think we're due in court now."

Aurora nodded. "Of course, ma'am."

* * *

"Petty Officer Kathryn Sanderson," Commander Brumby formally addressed the witness. "On the night in question, you were in sick bay with a fever of what temperature exactly?"

"103, sir," Kathryn replied. The young petty officer fidgeted nervously on the witness stand, twirling a lock of dark hair around her fingers.

"And how are you usually treated for a fever?" Mic asked.

"Rest, fluids, NSAIDs."

"That is the usual Navy protocol for this type of illness, is it not?"

Kathryn nodded. "I believe so, sir."

"But is it true, Petty Officer Sanderson, that Petty Officer Banks did _not_ treat you with this proven protocol but rather an unknown herbal concoction?"

"Yes, it's true, sir," Kathryn admitted quietly.

"So Petty Officer Banks was well aware of Navy protocol and she still willfully followed her own?"

Kathryn's eyes lowered to her lap. "Yes, I—I guess she did, sir."

"No further questions, Your Honor."

As Mic returned to his chair, Mac rose from hers and stepped towards the witness stand.

"Petty Officer Sanderson," she began. "Can you tell us exactly what Petty Officer Banks used to treat your fever?"

"I'm not sure, ma'am," Kathryn confessed. "She said it was, uh, a mixture of anti-febrile herbs."

"And you stated that you had a fever of 103 degrees. What is your temperature today?"

"I would assume 98.6, ma'am."

"Assumption," Mic muttered just loud enough to be heard. "Facts not in evidence."

Mac shot him a sideways glance. "Your Honor, we could indeed request Petty Officer Sanderson's actual temperature today. Or we could conclude that because she's here with us in this courtroom right now that her fever has resolved. Petty Officer Sanderson, do you feel sick or feverish today?"

"No, ma'am."

Mac simply let the implication hang in the air. "No further questions, Your Honor."

The judge nodded at Mic. "Commander Brumby."

Mic rose from his chair and stepped forward to address the judge. "Your Honor, the facts in this case are obvious. Petty Officer Sanderson was in sick bay with a fever of 103 degrees, and Petty Officer Banks refused to follow the Navy's documented medical protocol for her treatment. Instead, Petty Officer Banks took it upon herself to treat with an unknown concoction more suitable for something out of a fairy tale. The government requests that you find her derelict in her duty and dispel all fairy tale lore from the United States Navy. Thank you."

"Major MacKenzie."

"Your Honor, this isn't dereliction of duty," Mac stated firmly. "It's not witchcraft, and it's not a fairy tale. It's not even an unknown medical practice. Herbal remedies have been used for centuries, and no harm has come to Petty Officer Sanderson who is, in fact, well enough to be here with us today. The underlying duty of the sailors in the United States Navy is to serve this country. Sometimes the way they serve might be unconventional – or it might be different than what others expect. Petty Officer Banks is a corpsman whose duty is to care for those sailors who fall ill – and that is exactly what she did. Thank you."


	3. Chapter 3

_The pavement was bitterly cold against the side of her face._

 _Her whole body ached and her lungs burned with the pungent odor of alcohol and blood._

 _There was another smell in the air – burning metal and gasoline, maybe_ _–_ _but she was too drunk to identify it._

 _And she was too tired to open her eyes. She couldn't even tell if her head was throbbing or if it was just the pulsing of the ambulance siren in the distance._

 _Unknown voices swirled around her, their words jumbling together as she drifted in and out of consciousness._

 _"_ _What do we got, Chief?"_

 _"_ _Two passengers, one male, one female. Red convertible went over the bank, driver was dead on impact. From the amount of alcohol in the car, I'd say they were both completely trashed."_

 _"_ _You got an ID?"_

 _"_ _Not on the guy. The girl's name is MacKenzie. Sarah MacKenzie."_

 _"_ _Sarah?"_

 _She vaguely registered two fingers pressing against her neck._

 _"_ _She has a pulse. Can you hear me, Sarah?...Sarah?...Sarah…?"_

~*~o~*~

 _The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon at Red Rock Mesa, casting long shadows against the canyon in different shades of red and orange._

 _"Beautiful, isn't it?"_

 _Sarah didn't even blink at the sound of her uncle's voice. She just continued to stare out over the vast empty desert._

 _But Matthew O'Hara wasn't so easily deterred by his niece's stubborn silence._

 _"Doesn't even look real," he said, taking a seat on the rock next to her. "Looks like something out of a fairy tale."_

 _She still didn't reply, and just when Matt dared to look over and think that maybe his niece was too far gone after all, he saw her lift a hand to wipe away a tear._

 _"I know," she whispered. She turned to her uncle with watery eyes. "I always dreamed that I would find my fairy tale ending someday. I guess I screwed that up."_

 _"What do you mean by that?" Matt asked bluntly._

 _Sarah closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. She could still smell the alcohol, the blood, and the gasoline. She could feel the chill in the air and the cold, hard pavement against her tear-stained face. She could hear the police and the ambulance sirens wailing in unison._

 _And she could still see his eyes when he knew he was going to die._

 _Her own eyes flashed with anger and grief. "Well, it doesn't make for a very good fairy tale when the prince dies in the end."_

 _Matt snorted. "Eddie was no prince."_

 _"_ _He was all I had left."_

 _"_ _Well, then maybe you need to find yourself a different prince," Matt suggested. "You ever think about that?"_

 _"_ _No." Her voice was an empty monotone. "I don't think about anything anymore."_

 _"_ _Now wait just a minute," Matt said, holding up a hand. "You've been sober for a couple of months now. And you are one tough kid. You could stand up to any U.S. Marine that I know. Some handsome jarhead out there would be proud to call himself your prince."_

 _A tiny smile crept onto Sarah's face, and Matt wrapped an arm around her shoulders in an oddly tender gesture for a Marine colonel._

 _"_ _You'll find your prince someday, princess," he said gently. "You just make sure he's not a squid, okay?"_

* * *

Mac sat alone in the JAG courtyard, an untouched cup of coffee in her hand, her eyes looking off into the distance and her mind clearly miles away.

"Major MacKenzie?"

She recognized the quiet voice behind her, but she didn't acknowledge it for a long moment.

"You didn't need me for your defense," Mac finally said without taking her eyes off the horizon. "Lieutenant Roberts could have handled it on his own. Or any other JAG lawyer. But you chose me."

"Permission to speak freely, ma'am?" Aurora asked.

Mac's expression softened, and she shifted over slightly on the bench and motioned for Aurora to sit down. "Yes."

"Sometimes when we're hurting, we lose sight of what's important to us."

 _I know why you don't want me to fly. You're just afraid of losing me._

 _Maybe. And maybe I'm just afraid you'll lose yourself._

"I—I did lose something…someone," Mac admitted, wringing her hands nervously. "And I've been so busy pushing everyone away." She laughed a little. "I keep snapping at poor Bud. I guess it was just easier…I guess it's all I've ever done my whole life."

"It's okay to admit that we hurt," Aurora assured her.

"I'm not some damsel in distress," Mac protested sharply.

"But you're still waiting for your prince to come."

 _Did you think you'd sneak away without saying good-bye?_

She could still feel the heat between them as he had wrapped his arms around her and she had struggled so hard to hold back her tears. Mac smiled wistfully at the memory, and Aurora saw the soft curve of her lips and boldly spoke again.

"Sometimes our friends do unconventional things," she said gently, repeating Mac's own closing argument back to her. "But just because it's unconventional doesn't mean that they're not fulfilling the duty that they were always meant to do. It's that strength inside of them that we admire. And sometimes it takes even more strength not to push them away just when they need us the most."

 _I spent my life preparing to be a naval aviator, Mac._

 _I thought you of all people would know how much flying means to me._

Aurora paused as she saw Mac's hand quickly come up to brush away the fringe of one lone tear.

"Ma'am, sometimes we all take different paths in our lives. And sometimes we might get lost for a little while. But when our hearts are so closely entwined, those paths eventually lead back to each other, and it doesn't matter how we reach the end of the tale."

"My life hasn't exactly been a fairy tale," Mac admitted.

"Every fairy tale is a little different," Aurora agreed. "But they all end with happily ever after."

"Not mine," Mac declared, shaking her head.

"Then maybe you just haven't written the ending yet," Aurora suggested.

Mac stared at her silently for a long time. The petty officer's shining green eyes were filled with hope, and at last, Mac felt the icy grip on her heart easing slightly.

"Excuse me, ma'am?"

Bud's voice broke into the silence, and Mac looked up to see her co-counsel standing over them.

"The verdict is in."

* * *

"Will the defendant and counsel please rise?"

The judge peered over the bench at Mac, Bud, and Aurora. "Petty Officer Banks, for the charge of dereliction of duty, this hearing finds you...not guilty. I believe that Petty Officer Sanderson's current condition speaks for itself and I see no reason to proceed to a court-martial. I do trust that in the future you will follow Navy protocols and any deviation from those protocols will be cleared with your commanding officer first."

"Yes, ma'am," Aurora replied sincerely.

With a satisfied nod of acknowledgment, the judge banged the gavel on the bench, and the small crowd in the courtroom began to disperse.

"Congratulations, Petty Officer Banks." Bud extended his hand to their client.

"Thank you, Lieutenant Roberts," Aurora said, shaking his hand politely.

She turned to Mac. "And thank you, Major MacKenzie."

Her striking green eyes met Mac's chocolate brown ones, and a silent understanding passed between the two women.

"Thank you, Petty Officer Banks," Mac replied softly.

Exchanging friendly smiles, the three of them slowly made their way out of the courtroom.

When they were just a few steps away from the courtroom doors, a sudden chill in the air made Mac pause and glance behind her. Bud had been calmly striding beside her, and he also stopped in concern.

"Ma'am?"

"Bud, did you see Petty Officer Banks leave?"

"No, ma'am," Bud replied. He looked around in confusion. "I thought she was right behind you."

"I thought so, too." Mac took another look around the courtroom, but there was no one there.

"Maybe she went on ahead," Bud said. He stepped through the courtroom doors to check the hallway.

"Maybe," Mac murmured.

And as she turned to follow, she felt a gentle breeze brush the side of her face almost like a whisper.


	4. Epilogue

**Thanks for reading, everyone! I hope you like the ending!**

* * *

By the time Mac returned to her office late that evening, the JAG offices were nearly dark. Most of the other staff had already secured for the night, and the small light on Mac's desk was the only illumination.

Mac took another look at the files on her desk and sighed. The stacks of paperwork hadn't gotten any smaller.

She raised her eyes to the ceiling. "There isn't some sort of magic potion that could make this paperwork go away, is there?"

Silence was her only reply.

Feeling silly, she laughed at herself and sat down in her chair. With the office now quiet, maybe she could get a head start on filing today's cases. She surveyed her desk for Aurora's bright red file, but she didn't see it.

 _I guess Bud hasn't returned it yet_.

But the lieutenant was usually so conscientious about his paperwork.

Out of curiosity, Mac quickly clicked a few buttons on her computer, pulling up the day's court docket. She scrolled through the cases but didn't see Banks listed anywhere. She ran through a few of the search fields but couldn't find the case listed under her name, Bud's, or Commander Brumby's. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest, puzzled.

Aurora's case was nowhere to be found.

Just then, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a pretty white card sitting on top of one of the files.

Had that been there all along?

Tentatively, Mac reached out and opened the card, the lone light in her office casting shadows upon the shiny gold lettering.

 _Someday your prince will come. The happily ever after is up to you._

The card fell from Mac's fingers, fluttering to the floor at her sharp intake of breath.

It briefly occurred to Mac that she could be on the verge of completely losing her mind. But when she knelt down to pick up the card, rereading the words several times, she couldn't explain the warmth that seemed to melt the icy walls around her heart.

The paperwork could wait.

Suddenly feeling an unusual surge of courage, Mac picked up the phone and dialed.

"Yes, I'd like to place a shore to ship call," she said quietly. She paused as she listened to the operator. "Lieutenant Commander Harmon Rabb aboard the _USS Patrick Henry_."

There was a long pause and some fuzzy static, and Mac tapped her fingers impatiently. The longer she waited, the heavier the feeling of dread became inside her stomach. Maybe he wasn't there after all. Maybe he was debriefing after a mission. Maybe he was out flying a mission. Maybe he was—

"Lieutenant Commander Rabb."

She nearly dropped the phone as the sound of his voice vibrating against her ear sent sparks shooting through her body from head to toe.

"Harm?" She barely managed to choke out his name.

"Mac?"

She took a deep breath.

"Hi, flyboy."


End file.
